Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Shortly after Lorcan left, Gulliver rounded in on me again. I told him about the meeting and the color drained from his face. “The docks?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You have to agree to his marriage proposal.”
I gaped. “You can’t be serious. I’m nineteen. I’m not ready to marry, and definitely not a mobster. I always made sure to stay out of trouble. I won’t marry into it.”
“If you wanted to stay out of trouble, you shouldn’t have followed Imogen down her godless path, and certainly not into the Doom Loop. Now it’s too late.”
“Nothing’s too late. I’ll just say no.”
“You can’t say no to a man like Lorcan Devaney. Don’t you understand?”
“What can he do?”
“The Devaneys know where your mother lives. They know where I live.”
Uncle Gulliver was following his own agenda, and it wasn’t in sync with mine. “You’re worried about yourself.”
“I’m the most likely to survive. The Devaneys work closely with the IRA and that lot would never tolerate them killing off priests, but your mother and you aren’t protected like that.”
“You’re just trying to scare me. Why do you care so much if I marry Devaney?”
“You should be scared, Aislinn. If you aren’t yet, it’s my duty as your uncle to change that.”
Timothy, aside from Seamus, was one of my most trusted men, and was making his way over to me. He had the slightest limp in his left leg, from a stab wound a Chinese smuggler gave him a few years back when they’d tried to take over part of our warehouses for their drug and human trafficking business. The limp was barely noticeable, but I’d known Timothy all my life. He was nearing fifty and had become even more stoic since the attack, though he’d never been a very talkative man. “Lorcan, there you are.”
“Here I am,” I said as I climbed out of my Land Rover. From the tight set of Timothy’s mouth and the deep furrows of his forehead I knew something was up. “Problems?” I asked, following him past our smaller warehouse and several containers, which hopefully held our shipment of some of the best opium money could buy along the old Silk Road. Business was still flourishing, just not from legal avenues.
“One of the dock workers tried to steal from us,” Timothy explained as we entered our main warehouse. A few of my guys were taking stock of the new containers while Seamus glared down at a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. The harbor area was vast and workers changed all the time. Most of them, even the new ones, knew to stay away from our shipments. Seamus nodded at me. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to deal with him yourself. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was busy.”
Seamus let out a quiet sigh, again showing his disapproval.
“I’m here now,” I said. The asshole always found a way to make me feel like a fucking school-boy in need of reprimanding. That was the trouble with friends. Maybe I should give up on the concept.
The dock worker peered up at me like a puppy begging for a treat. If he was looking for empathy, he would be disappointed. Considering his busted lip and swollen eye, Seamus or whoever had caught the asshole in the act, had already given him a very slight taste of what was still to come.
“Where’s Rody?”
“Over there,” Seamus said with a sly grin as he gestured to my favorite iron rod, which had traveled with me for the last ten years and had given many traitors, thieves, and people who annoyed the fuck out of me a last farewell. I brought two fingers to my mouth and whistled sharply, grabbing the attention of Nollaig and Riordan, our newest additions from Ireland. Riordan gave me a crooked smile.
“Bring me Rody.”
He looked around, trying to figure out which lad I meant.
“Not the brightest candle on the cake, eh?” Seamus laughed dryly.
I shook my head. I was in an exceptionally good mood thanks to my meeting with Aislinn, so I only cocked an eyebrow and didn’t punch some wisdom into the kid. Timothy stalked over to the two boys, who looked about ready to bolt. “Did you recruit them from church choir? Why are these two like fucking newborn lambs?”
“They can throw a punch, don’t worry. They’re only seventeen. First time away from home. They’ll grow into it, and they’re in awe of the infamous Lorcan Devaney.”
Timothy hit them both over the back of the head and grabbed my iron rod.
Nollaig snickered. “Rody. Cool name.”
I gave the two boys a look that had him and the other kid scuttling back inside the container.
“Were we like this once?” Seamus asked.
“Far from it,” Timothy muttered as he handed me my Rody.
The worker at my feet stared up at me in horror. “Your turn’s soon enough,” I told him.